With No Kisses
by moaaa
Summary: Klaine AU Friday. Prompt was Vintage. 1920's Kurt and Blaine. - Kurt is the soon to be leader of the New Directions, a highly respected gang in America. Blaine is the leader of The Warblers. They meet during an exchange, and they can't keep their eyes off each other. They're in too deep, but neither want out. - Rated M for safety.


Wind rustled the fallen, multi-colored leaves on the sidewalks of New York City. The moon hung high in the sky, an indicator that it was far too late for city involvement.

But the boys of New Directions were out on business, and there was no way they'd be stopped by late hour.

In fact, this was the best time to do business. At least, the business they had.

There were three out and about. Finn "The Frank" Hudson, half leader of the New Directions, under the supervision from Burt Hummel, the real leader and mastermind behind ND.

Mike "Bubble Toes" Chang, the muscle of the New Directions.

And Kurt "Catch" Hummel. Prized possession of the New Directions and slight trophy wife.

Kurt got what he wanted. He was next in line for full control of New Directions and he had tight security on him at all times. After Burt's heart attack and death scare, they needed someone who would undoubtedly know what to do.

They could not be left without a leader. That would be absolute chaos, and no high ranking gang – such as the New Directions – needed chaos within their inner circle.

That was, at least, part of the reason the New Directions protected Kurt with everything they had. Another was much deeper and a much more sensitive topic. Kurt being gay was an unknown – and, according to most of society at the time, unacceptable – concept to America in 1927. Everyone in ND was understanding and proud, but outside of their group was a world full of hatred that they wished Kurt didn't have to experience and tried their damndest to protect him from.

That is the real reason why Kurt was there that night. His argument had been that if Burt were to ever die and he would be expected to take over, he would have to know how to handle a transaction.

Kurt didn't mention that he was tired of being constantly watched and holed up in their safe house. He wanted to live, party like any other seventeen year old. Prohibition prevented them from legally having any real fun, but really, what part of his life was legal?

They all pulled their hats a little lower as they neared their destination. The coffee shop on the corner looked normal and quaint but when you turned into the alleyway beside it, you would plummet to the bottom of some stairs if you weren't very careful.

The ND boys took to the steps carefully, their shined shoes tapping ominously against the pavestone. There was one streetlight at the bottom that guided them.

They stopped, Mike and Kurt taking up flank for Finn as he knocked twice on the door.

An eye appeared and a gruff voice huffed out one word, "Password."

"Honey."

Immediately, the eye disappeared and some elaborate clicking occurred before the door slid open and a smoky hallway appeared.

Kurt took a deep breath as they walked into the short hallway before coming into an even smokier room. He attempted to remember the rules.

Always make eye contact was one Kurt had to work on. It showed that you didn't fear them and that you deserved equal respect from them if they wanted it from you. No one had the upperhand.

Keep your hat low was another. A shadow should always be cast across your face to hide your features and, if it came to it, prevent you from being identified. Those two rules came into conflict sometimes, but Kurt had learned that good leaders made it work.

The third rule was the most important, and also the most difficult. Never. Fall. In love. With. The. Enemy.

Kurt had never been one to follow rules.

* * *

Blaine AnderBerry counted the money on the table, cigar between his lips. He puffed out smoke as he threw the last stack of cash onto the table, leaning back casually.

It was all there. As it damn well better had been.

He snapped his fingers for Wes to collect the money from the table.

He threw an arm across the back of the couch he lounged on, watching his club from across the way. He was settled into the far corner of his underground establishment, a whiskey on ice in front of him. His eyes raked across his place, taking everything in. There was a fast jazz piece being played and women – dressed in traditional flapper attire, some flashy, some simple – and men danced the Breakaway quickly.

He watched the shiny dresses shimmer in the light, the headbands bobbing around the dancefloor rhythmically.

Blaine pulled his hat low, ignoring the chatter and giggles of David and his girl for the night, Jazzlyn. Trent sat a little ways from him, looking out for trouble while simultaneously watching Blaine's back.

Blaine snorted. Kid would take a bullet for him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing nothing was going down tonight. No skulls to crack or anyone to threaten, just a simple transaction with the boys of ND.

Blaine normally wouldn't be so relaxed, but they'd had a tentative alliance – or, is understanding a better word for it? – for years now, no one was going to shank him. Burt Hummel was a little soft anyways, and the old man was sure to die soon.

"Mr. A," Blaine's eyes opened at the abbreviation of his name to see Nick standing there with the boys of ND behind him.

Blaine recognized the tall one, and the Asian – New Directions were known for being very diverse, after all – but there was someone new there. At least, new to him.

He was tall, not as tall as The Frank, but tall. Very slim, with high cheekbones and smooth, porcelain complexion. He had cherry red lips and arresting blue – gray, green? – eyes.

They made eye contact and maintained it for a moment, taking each other in. He saw the boy blush, and look away bashfully.

Ah ah.

Weak link. Definitely.

Depending on the boys importance within the gang, he might be the key to taking over the New Directions, if Blaine ever seriously considered it.

The New Directions were the second highest ranking gang in America, next to The Warblers, of course.

And Vocal Adrenaline.

Blaine scowled at the thought of Jesse St. James. He would _definitely _destroy them.

Blaine smirked instead, still looking at the boy. Something about him was endearing, and Blaine's heart clenched disgustingly at the thought of hurting him.

Maybe he wouldn't break any hearts to get his way. That _is _what Jesse St. James had attempted to do years ago. Blaine had sworn a long time ago that he would get revenge on that jackass for breaking his sister's heart and that he'd never be as heartless as St. James.

He rolled his eyes back over to The Frank who was staring at him expectantly.

"Well, well," Blaine didn't stand up, instead gesturing to the other part of the couch for them to sit, "if it isn't The Frank. Haven't seen you," his eyes wondered back over to the boy before snapping back, "in a while."

The Frank didn't answer, instead staring at him suspiciously.

Blaine's smirk grew. "Can I get anything for you, Frank? Or your boys?"

The Frank's eyes flashed dangerously. "_The _Frank. And – "

Bubble Toes cut him off, "Yeah, I'll take a beer." He said it with a thoughtful expression and he shrugged at The Frank's murderous look.

Blaine began to grin, and he snapped his fingers for the server on call and ordered him a beer.

Blaine looked over at the boy. "What about you, Porcelain?"

The boy looked surprised but before he could say anything, The Frank cut him off. "Nothing for either of us. Catch doesn't need anything like that."

Catch. He wondered why he'd been given that nickname.

Catch began to glare but The Frank shrugged it off, instead opting to glare directly at Blaine.

His grin grew and he tipped his hat at The Frank. "_The Frank. _I get the feeling you don't_. trust_. me. "

Blaine emphasized the word trust, and The Frank leaned back, relaxing slightly. "Not as far as I can throw you, Curly Q."

Blaine chuckled lightly. "Let me see what you got."

The Frank nodded, signaling for Bubble Toes to bring forward the briefcase. Blaine's eyes wondered back over to Catch, only to see him staring at the band and tapping his foot very, very lightly to the beat.

Blaine smirked before addressing him. "My boys are the best, aren't they? Jeff over there's been blowin' on that saxophone for fifteen years. Thad's been hitting those keys for twenty. Not your typical jazz band, but the best."

The boy looked surprised at the fact that he was being spoken too again, but he recovered quickly.

"It'd be best if you had a singer. You need a sweet songbird to add some nice spice to this place."

"Oh, I've got one. My sister, Rachel," Blaine was mildly surprised at the boys high voice and at the fact that the boy was even responding, let alone suggesting something for his club. "She's a diva but she's got one helluva voice."

Catch smirked, about to respond before The Frank laid a hand on his shoulder. "No, Kurt – Catch, I mean," His eyes flashed very nervously over to Blaine and he grinned at him, blowing out on his cigar one more time before putting it out on the tray.

Kurt. A nice name, that was. Kurt huffed at The Frank's words, but stopped talking, sending Blaine an apologetic look.

Blaine just winked, causing the boy to look away shyly.

Blaine smiled softly before turning back to the briefcase laid in front of him, open. He admired the very pretty guns, their metal shinning in the dim lighting. He raked his eyes over them, making sure all twenty-five were there before nodding. He snapped and immediately Trent was next to him, gently sliding a different case on the table. It was inscribed with a bird and Blaine peeked at the New Directions to see an intricacy of arrows folded over each other.

He opened the case to reveal wads of money, hundreds stacked on hundreds. The Frank nodded at Bubble Toes to count it and the boy immediately began to pull it out.

"Twenty-five grand, as Burt requested," Blaine adjusted his hat, looking at Kurt from the corner of his eye. The boy caught his eye from across the table and smiled shyly, but brightly.

Well if that didn't give Blaine's heart a kick start, nothing would.

Mike finished counting, nodding at The Frank. He turned to say something to Blaine but his eyes caught something over Blaine's shoulder.

Normally, he would have turned around to see what it was; but, you don't turn your back on someone as dangerous as the New Directions – no matter how tentative their alliance.

Besides, he found out what it was soon enough. Rachel slid into the booth next to him, kissing his cheek and taking his whiskey from his hand. He scowled at her and she only grinned her eyes locking with The Franks, while addressing Blaine, "Hey bro."

Blaine did not like the way The Frank was staring at her. He knew that look and he chanced a glance at Kurt to see if he had also caught the looks between the two.

He had, and they shared one of their own.

"This, here, is my songbird, my sister, Rachel," Blaine said very carefully. He didn't want to, but, yes, Finn Hudson would die if he hurt his baby sister.

Well, not really baby, seeing as she was a year older, but that wasn't the point. Their dad was still reeling about the St. James fiasco – even if it had been three years ago – but Blaine doubted Finn Hudson was anywhere near as devious as St. James.

The Frank nodded, still staring at her before his eyes snapped to Blaine's quickly. "Well, uh, we must be going."

"Oh? Are you sure you can't stay for Rachel's song for the night? She really is wonderful. You should always appreciate raw talent such as hers."

The Frank looked nervous for a split second before Kurt answered for him. "Of course we'll stay. Who knows, I might have some competition."

Kurt winked at Rachel and she giggled confidently. "Oh, honey, please. I don't compete, I simply win."

Kurt grinned as she got up, sauntering her way over to the stage and taking the microphone confidently. "Hey, guys. For those of you who don't know me, I am Rachel AnderBerry. Part owner of this joint, but mainly, I'm just here to sing." She winked as the crowd cheered and she waved at the band to begin playing.

"_A fine romance, with no kisses. A fine romance, my friend this is." _

Singing was an AnderBerry trait that Blaine had been granted too, but he never exploited it. He watched The Frank's awed expression morph into one of bashfulness as Rachel winked at him from up on the stage.

Blaine nearly cursed aloud. He'd have to have a conversation with Rachel later.

Kurt's face was simply appreciative, with a hint of awed contempt. Blaine wondered what type of vocal power this boy was keeping from them all.

She finished and Blaine rolled his eyes at his sister's expression. She soaked up the applause, glowing under her spotlight and praise.

"You were right. That was talent. Now, we've got to go. New Directions, up."

Mike grabbed the briefcase at The Frank's indication and they walked past the crowd and out of the club. But not before Blaine caught Kurt's wink he threw his way and Blaine actually had to wonder what he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

**Song was A Fine Romance by Ella Fitzgerald. Title from there also.**

**I hope you all enjoyed.**

**xxEchelonAtHeartxx**


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